Banished
by MintChocolate5
Summary: Forced away to her father's care at the beginning of her junior year, Bella only wanted people to leave her alone. She doesn't need a parent. She doesn't want friends. And she certainly doesn't want to get involved in the mystery of the fascinating Cullen family. Yet, as she learned the hard way, some things are beyond her control. AU, Set in 2016.
1. Prologue

"I'm sorry we have to do this."

Isabella "for-the-love-of-insert-deity-call-me- _Bella_ " Swan crossed her arms, glaring at the woman who had purportedly given birth to her sixteen years ago. They were nothing alike, and a swell of resentment gripped her tightly.

She said nothing in response.

They were standing in front of airport security, Bella's bags checked, her sole carry-on hanging from her one functional arm.

The newly minted Renée Dwyer went on, "I know you don't like me right now. I know you are angry. But this is for the best," she said with finality.

"Being abandoned by my mother is for the best?" Bella asked sardonically, not willing the woman to once again take the easy route of self-justification.

"I can't do this anymore," Renée said, without the charming temper explosions that had characterized these past chats, instead sounding completely wary and resigned. "You are out of control and I don't know how to help you. And considering what you recently did—"

Bella cut her off. "I told you I lied."

"Exactly! And that is the problem. I can no longer trust you. Where did my sweet little girl go?" her mother's eyes were starting to flow with tears, while Bella's identical ones were rolling.

"The sweet little girl that did all the laundry, cooking, cleaning, bills—you mean _that_ sweet girl? She doesn't sound like a girl to me, more like your mother!"

"I can't control how you choose to frame your experiences, but we both know it wasn't like that," Renée snapped, her words likely rephrased from a self-help book.

"It was. You were never a mother to me, and at the first sign of trouble, you ship me off. I think that objectively makes you a shitty parent." Bella never thought she would say such horrible—true—things, and yet here she was. Changed, irrevocably, inwardly. And now her outward environment would be different, too.

"Fine, I was a shitty parent. Then you won't miss me, will you?"

Bella remained silent, the question too complicated to parse out verbally.

Renée continued, "You know I hate leaving with angry words, but you deliberately test me and I can't deal with this. Tell your father to contact me if I need to send you anything."

Despite this being the reaction the teenager sought, her throat closed uncomfortably. They stood, for a handful of seconds, at an impasse.

Bella looked down, and when she glanced back up, she saw the back of her mother as the older woman strode away with no farewell.

Bella wanted to crumble then and there. To sink to the floor, curl into herself, and weep with the loneliness and betrayal that circulated through her. But that was not a true option. She had to be strong. Had to protect herself, because no one else was going to do it for her.

Straightening with a steely spine, she fumbled in her bag for her ticket and ID, and joined the line of other people to begin her new, hopefully short-lived, chapter.


	2. Arrival

CHAPTER ONE: Arrival

* * *

Charlie had always been a stoic man.

As a child, Bella had been intimidated by the near stranger she saw twice a year at most. She tiptoed around the house during her visits, acted in the least conspicuous way, and generally tried not to be a nuisance. Charlie made small overtures to quell her apprehension, but in the limited time spans that their visits took place, any progress would become undone by the next time she saw him.

She had trouble reading his facial expressions, understanding his body language. Her instincts were to become reserved in the face of uncertainty and so, sadly, that meant her and Charlie never really connected as parent-child, could not under the rare occasions they saw each other. It had been even longer since she had made the trek to his, and hers she supposed but would not call it so, hometown—Forks, Washington.

Her arrival prompted no break from tradition, other than the change in location. Charlie greeted her with a nearly impassive nod and awkward hug, took her bags, and drove back to his house in almost complete silence.

He did not broach the reason for her sudden banishment from her mother's home. Nor did he comment on her altered appearance or injured arm. Instead, the minimal conversation he made revolved around logistics. From the seamless way he appeared able to incorporate her into his life and routine, she figured that her presence did not unduly disturb him.

He showed her the room she would stay in, decorations thankfully different from when she was a child. His thoughtfulness made her stomach hurt, and she professed her tiredness eagerly when he gave her the first opening.

"We can talk about school tomorrow," he said, giving her a small smile that could mean a thousand different things. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to come get me."

"Alright, thanks," she mumbled, and was grateful when he closed the door behind him without further inquiry into whether she needed help with her cast. He must have heard the story, thought it unimportant to get her side, and believed she could handle this herself. Which she could.

She studied the door briefly, happily noting the lock and silently commending Charlie on thinking of her privacy, and turned it accordingly.

She glanced around the room again, taking stock of the layout. Bed, nightstand, dresser, and desk. All these things fit neatly into the room, but more would only clutter the space, which was clearly what her suitcase was doing.

Instead of doing the practical thing and unpacking, she went for shoulder bag and pulled out her computer and a thick book. She was teaching herself to program, focusing on a variety of the languages in order to prepare for the project that, in her opinion, would be tricky but just.

The steadiness and logic of the study washed over her, and she allowed the practice to absorb her completely until she crawled into bed hours later, unable to keep her eyes open any longer.

She was unable to fall asleep until she double-checked that the door and window were locked.

Then, she slept better than she had in months.

* * *

 **UNSENT DRAFT**

* * *

From: Bella Swan

To: Renée Dwyer

Subject: (I hate this field and don't know what to say) I'm in Forks

Date: September 18th, 2016

* * *

Renée,

You haven't called or texted or emailed, but I guess I should let you know I made it. I'm sorry for how we left things at the airport. I was really angry (for good reason) but shouldn't have called you a shitty parent. I know you did your best (except at the end). I really can't believe you didn't trust me when I told you –

Maybe I won't talk about that stuff.

So Charlie enrolled me at Forks High starting on Monday. So tomorrow. He sure didn't waste any time. He didn't ask me about what happened, I guess you didn't tell him? I'm glad…

It's funny, we used to be able to talk for hours and I can't even think of what to write in an email.

I hear Charlie calling, so I guess I will try and finish this later…


	3. Antipathy

CHAPTER TWO: Antipathy

* * *

Her first day of school went smoothly, if dully, until sixth period Biology I.

Apparently, not everyone got the memo that Bella was the only one allowed to be the rude, angsty teen.

She wanted to snap at her biology partner, because um, hey, she had some serious issues to repress and take out on the general populace. How dare he steal her thunder with his dark looks and clenched fists.

He appeared _murderous_. Positively stunning, but aggressive. To be honest, it was a look she envied. Her features were simply not made for intimidation. Nonetheless, she would make a valiant attempt to mimic the look later in the day. Situations where leveling others with a downright scary glare were more numerous these days.

"Are you okay?" she asked under her breath, when her stupid science teacher turned his back. All science teachers were dumb, in her exalted opinion, but this one in particular looked like he drew the short stick in deciding who would teach high school level biology.

"Mm," was the forced out reply, resulting in an angry exhalation. Well, if he didn't want to do her the honor of a proper response, then she would ignore him. See how he liked that!

Either he didn't notice her blatant cutting of him, or he was so hurt from the experience he couldn't form the words for an apology. Yeah, she was _certain_ it was the latter.

Then he said: "Could you move away from me," with such vehemence, Bella immediately complied and scooted as far as she could from the hostile being. If he intended for to actually leave Biology, well, that wasn't going to happen.

He clenched the corner of the desk, and she wondered what the hell his problem with her was. Why didn't he just leave if he was so distraught by her mere presence? His behavior was absolutely ridiculous, and while her stomach was filled with knots over it, she was used to that and coped by stewing.

 _He_ disliked _her_? Then _she_ would dislike _him_. Easy enough. She had already heard the gossip concerning the Cullen family—how odd they were, snotty, rich, high and mighty, model-like gorgeous, and pseudo-incestuous (the last tidbit was dropped by a blonde named Lauren, who gleefully defamed each Cullen, but even had to concede that no, they weren't actually related).

She had observed that they had admittedly alluring looks, and had no further observations on the matter until Mr. Banner assigned one of the Cullen's as her biology partner.

His instantaneous bad conduct served only to reinforce most of what she heard at lunch. Not even his aesthetically pleasing face could unsour her low opinion now.

Biology continued on, dragging at an infinitely slow pace. When the bell finally rang, her bio partner raced out faster than a mouse chased by a cat.

Her being the cat, him the mouse. The chase being her existence.

While ineffective, she leveled a preliminary semi-homicidal glare after him.

She could say three things with unequivocal certainty:

She hated this town.

She hated this school.

She hated her biology partner.

Her last class was gym. The less said, the better.

When the bell rang that finally allowed freedom, she grabbed her backpack with her good arm and slung it on one shoulder. Upon leaving, another annoyance popped up beside her, chipper.

"What did you think of our first day? Sucks that you had to sit next to a Cullen in Bio," Mike Newton said, trying to clearly irritate her with his intolerable presence and by breaking her triplet of hate list to add a fourth. Perhaps she could add him to the category of school; but then wouldn't her bio partner also be in that category? No, he seemed to be a special snowflake all his own.

But Mike was the type of guy who was annoyingly persistent. Didn't her general appearance scream unsociability? That was the whole point!

"It was fine," she mumbled, wishing for the first time that her hair was its pre-cut length and she could hide her face behind it.

"He is such a freak," Mike went on, as they stopped at her locker and she began fumbling with the lock. "Let me hold your bag!" he offered quickly.

She hated being helped. Pragmatism won out, however, and she allowed it and even gave a small thanks. She wasn't a complete asshole.

"So, Bells—"

" _Bella_ ," she corrected sharply, closing her locker and snatching her bag back. Not complete, but partial asshole, yeah.

"—Bella, a group of us are getting together this weekend—"

"Fun!" she interrupted hurriedly, "have a good time! Bye!" and she used her well-developed ditching people technique to turn a corner and make a graceless sprint to her truck. She ignored his voice calling after her.

Some might see her conduct as ungrateful (for his overtures at friendship) or rude (for her outright dismissal of him and his jittery puppy attitude). But, well. She isn't interested in being his friend, isn't interested in having _any_ friends. She wants to do her time, complete her punishment, and get the hell outta the town of Forks.

Bella all but collapsed in relief that she made it to her car without a) killing anyone, b) making anyone cry, and c) getting invitations to, _eek_ , socialize.

Her truck made a rumbling sound of agreement as she sped as fast as it would go out of the parking lot and back to Charlie's house.


	4. Apropos

CHAPTER THREE: Apropos

* * *

Charlie looked to be trying when he asked her, "So, how was your first day at school?"

Her combination of a grunt and peeved sigh answered that.

"That's good," he said sarcastically, spooning the cooked grocery store lasagna on to a plate for her and pushing the dish over.

She cut a large piece with her fork and jammed the chunk into her mouth so she could avoid talking more. Why did people want to converse with her? Didn't her short hair unevenly chopped hair, heavy eyeliner, and black baggy attire scream 'leave me alone!' at every frequency?

She had an ounce of sympathy for her biological father, however. Renée had steam-rolled over any efforts he had made in the past to spend more time with her, and then dumped a teenager at his door step when the first sign of trouble arose.

Renée got all the boon, and Charlie all the burden.

Sounded like her award-winning parent of the year.

"How were classes?" he tried again, clearly feeling awkward.

"Bworing," she said through masticated Italian.

"I know Forks High doesn't have the advanced classes that you were taking in Phoenix," he said, not through a bite of food. "And while your mother didn't tell me a lot about your schedule, I called the school to get the full report."

She froze.

He lowered his fork completely. "I'm glad you brought this up," she really hadn't, "Imagine how I felt when I learned that you skipped _thirty_ _two_ classes last semester." His stern glare dashed her appetite.

Her gaze flew to the floor, cheeks heated. Well, yeah, she didn't see the need to go to classes that offered her nothing of value. But how did one explain that to a parent? Renée hadn't really cared, or bothered with petty things like attendance or grades. She believed the value of existence came from other places, or some other bullshit that explained why she'd never challenged herself with college or a stimulating career. Renée was also busy with her new husband.

Charlie did seem like the kind of parent who would care. "I'm really concerned that you were doing drugs or getting into trouble. I've seen kids do that here, with terrible consequences."

"I wasn't!" she defended quickly, and that was mostly true. It really depended on how you defined trouble.

He leveled her with a _look_. "We will discuss that later. For now, let me finish."

She nodded, crossing her arms protectively.

"I then saw your grades." Charlie rubbed his chin in the unconscious pose of someone deeply perplexed. "Freshman year you had perfect scores in all your classes, except gym. Sophomore year that trend was the same, until your second semester."

Right, ugh. Why had she been such a goody two shoes people pleaser? She had wanted to impress her mom with grades. Look how well that worked out.

Charlie's gaze now caught and pierced her own. "What happened, Bella?"

What happened?

What. Happened.

Because obviously it was clear to even a distant, hardly involved parent that something had happened.

A small part of her screamed to tell him what had happened. That got easily quashed—who did this man think he was? Her _father_? HA! He was a stranger. One who made irregular appearances in her life and did not get, did not deserve, to be in her circle of confidantes. Well, that was the phrase, even though she exactly zero people included in that category. And Charlie wasn't going to be the first. At one point, she considered her mother as the only person she could trust and confide in.

Look how well that worked out.

She strictly did not examine how fast her feelings had changed from sympathy for Charlie to weariness to resentment.

Her stomach began to hurt more. "Nothing happened. Classes got harder. I didn't feel like trying."

A dissatisfied expression crossed his face. Did he expect her to spill her guts when he grew the gumption to ask after her welfare? Where was he when all this was happening? Taking an interest now was too little too late.

Bella was a poor liar—or at least, she had been, before she truly had something to hide. "Seriously, _Charlie_ ," she deliberately emphasized his name, hoping to subconsciously convey their distant relationship, "it's fine. I got into a bad habit of skipping classes. I won't do that here."

"You won't," he said with finality. "I'll be asking the school counselor for weekly reports until I'm sure you're behaving. There are three rules for this house, Bella." Oh, joy, a male in her life to assert dominance. "First, you go to school unless you have my permission not to. Second, you let me know if you are going to be home late or go out on the weekend. Third, no boys in your room."

Gross, did he read those rules straight from the Patriarchal Dad's Guide to Preserving Your Daughter's Virtue? What if she was a lesbian and that rule would be moot? Such presumptuous behavior made her want to go reread the treatise on third wave feminism she'd stumbled across last year. Also, his rules were apropos of nothing. The trouble she got into had nothing to do with boys or staying out late. Well, she supposed, that made it simple to obey but still do exactly what she wanted to.

Either way, she was so done with this conversation. She frowned, shoving her chair back. "Yeah okay, whatever," she said with an obstinate upturn of her chin. "I'm going upstairs." She rinsed her plate off and placed it in the dishwasher. Some habits were difficult to break, even if they ruined any dramatic exits from a room.

"Good," he said, seeming appeased that he had elucidated the rules of his household.

She took the stairs two at a time, bounding through the hallway into her room. After shutting her door without giving into the urge to slam it, sliding the lock into place, she threw herself face first onto her bed.

 _How_ _dare_ _he_ , she reflected with growing frustration.

She had never been subjected to rules. Renée had a laissez faire attitude toward parenting and life in general. She allowed Bella to do whatever she wanted, and before last year, that tenet had disproportionately rewarded Renée's choice.

Bella knew she had been practically the perfect daughter. Quiet, sweet, smart. She didn't party. She wasn't interested in boys (which to Renée, may have been a disappointment, but one that she had the pleasure of capitalizing as her own obsession, and despite that was normally a glad happenstance for the parents of teenage daughters, as Charlie demonstrated with his rules). In fact, her entire life had revolved around the caretaking of her mother, seeing to her needs, and never establishing a strong identity outside of that.

She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment she had broken from that mold. A mold in more usages than one—it was a living thing that grew over her, covering her in decay and inertness.

Resentment rooted, festered.

She took a deep breath and focused on that. There was no use in letting the past bother her. It is what it is, as the platitude went. From the conversation with Charlie, it was clear that Renée hadn't informed him of the scope of her behavior.

That was good. The less Charlie knew, the better for her to skate through the next year. And maybe never have to revisit the topic again, especially with the stranger she lived with.

Forcing herself to bury her disquiet, she rolled off her bed and over to her desk, where she grabbed her backpack.

She tossed aside her homework and pulled out a book on coding that she almost finished working through. She wanted to do another few exercises on writing complicated codes before she delved into the start of her project.

She liked coding. It was like a puzzle, one that you could change by building new pieces to fit into the jagged edges, or turn into an entirely new picture with just a few alterations.

The comfort of the practice also helped her to not dwell on...things.

Allowing herself to become completely absorbed in her task, she worked late into the night.


	5. Archetypal

CHAPTER FOUR: Archetypal

* * *

The first week of school quickly established a pattern. Charlie woke her up—because otherwise she showed a likelihood of snoozing her alarm—she got dressed in dark colored baggy clothes, grabbed breakfast, and drove to school.

Charlie had surprised her again with his thoughtfulness, and bought her a used Ford truck, one that Billy Black's son, Jacob, had fixed up. She was ecstatic—a car meant greater freedom, more privacy. She had thanked him profusely, causing him to redden and mumble that it was no trouble. She had a little trouble driving with her broken arm, but the worst of the fracture had healed and she just had to compensate by carefully making the wider turns. Otherwise, she was golden.

If she left early enough, she might have enough time in the morning to fudge her homework into a passable, but mediocre, grade. If not, she simply didn't turn it in.

Eventually she knew Charlie would hear about it and be annoyed, but it was her life, not his. She could do poorly in high school if she wanted.

Her class schedule went like this:

First period was English in "building" 3 with Mr. Mason. The buildings were really arbitrarily selected areas of the one larger building that made Forks High sound much bigger than it truly was. Mr. Mason was the average teacher in a small town, or how she envisioned one would be. He was slightly fat, balding, and seemed to barely be able to stay awake during his own lessons. To his credit, he truly seemed interested in the books they were discussing, as that was the only time he roused himself to look conscious.

Because she had entered school mid-semester, she sat in the back. That was where she would have chosen for herself anyway. Funny, slightly, since her entire school life, she had liked being in the front seat, off-center. Times changed.

They were in the middle of reading _The Scarlet Letter_ , and were supposed to be thinking about themes of the book. She didn't participate in the discussion, and Mr. Mason kindly did not call on her. She kept her head down, furiously scribbling into a notebook that were, contrary to what her teacher may believe, unrelated to class.

The coding problem from last night would not leave her brain. She continued this practice over second period, Economics, in building 6, with Mr. Jefferson.

Really, what did she care about what affected supply and demand?

Third period was Trigonometry with Mr. Varner in building 5. Unfortunately, she couldn't fake relevant note taking when the teacher spent half the class lecturing on a specific technique, and then had them pair up in order to do a set of problems together, which they would discuss as a class after.

Jessica Stanley sat adjacent and turned in her seat with a hopeful smile. Disinterested in forming any connections Bella might be, but she was still a student and a teenage girl. Jessica had been kind to her at lunch, and was in a few of her classes.

Bella's first impression of her was of a happy, go-lucky girl, one she wouldn't normally be friendly with, Jessica was less annoying than some of the other people she'd met. Such a ringing endorsement, but beggars cannot be choosers.

"Want to partner?" Jessica asked.

"Okay," Bella responded, suppressing a sigh, wishing she could work alone in every class.

Jessica scooted her chair closer, and stared at their sheet of math problems. "Um, so sine is the opposite over adjacent?"

Bella stared at her. "Opposite over hypotenuse," she reminded gently. "Think of the mnemonic SOH-CAH-TOA."

"What?" the other girl asked blankly.

"Didn't Mr. Varner tell you the easy way to remember sine, cosine, and tangent?"

"Maybe. I have trouble focusing, and I'm, like, really bad at math," she replied forlornly.

"SOH is sin equals opposite over hypotenuse. So look at the triangle here, and we calculate it that way. See?"

Jessica nodded, and Bella showed her the other two.

They did a few sets of problems from there without trouble, until the more advanced ones. Jessica got frustrated almost immediately, but Bella thought she knew what her problem was.

"You are skipping steps," Bella said unthinkingly voicing her suspicions. "Here, let's write down exactly what we need to calculate, what goes first."

They did. This aided Jessica immensely and she exclaimed, "You are so smart! How did you know to do that?"

Bella blushed, slouching in her seat. "Math has rules and concrete answers. If you follow the rules, you will always get the correct answer. And the more you do it, the more you see the patterns."

Mr. Varner had been walking around and assisting students with the problems. When he reached their desk, he silently looked over their answers and surprised expression came over his features. "Ms. Stanley, these problems were supposed to be completed together. You shouldn't let Ms. Swan do all the work."

While Bella had guided the solving of the problems, Jessica had participated equally. However, the girl's face fell and she looked uncomfortable, not refuting the charge and turning red.

"I didn't do all the work," Bella said sharply in defense, an unwarranted amount of anger bubbling up. "Jessica helped with all of them."

Mr. Varner seemed doubtful, and Bella thought of the trouble with the basic sine equation and inferred that Jessica was likely known as a poor math student. Still!

He wandered off without further comment.

"Thanks, Bella," Jessica said quietly, "but I really am terrible at math, and you did most of the work."

"No," she disagreed, "once I wrote down the steps, you didn't have any trouble, did you?"

Jessica had a lighter shade of brown hair than Bella's, much longer, and straightened almost perfectly flat. She twirled her hair nervously between her fingers, considering. "Yeah, I guess I didn't."

"Exactly," Bella reinforced.

They worked awhile longer, until Mr. Varner eventually went to his desk and immersed himself in whatever was on his computer. Jessica took this as a sign to disregard their assignment for the time being, in favor of another worthy pursuit.

"So," Jessica's tone grew in confidence with only that one word, and Bella felt a sense of foreboding at the oncoming dialogue. "How are you liking Forks? Any boys you are interested in? I can tell you alllll about them. Well, you heard about the Cullen's already, and who cares about their royal snotty highnesses. But Mike, Tyler, Jim, Erik, Ben, Casey—anyone really!"

"Um no, no one," she replied, eyes widening. She definitely did not want to answer either question. "But thanks?" she couldn't help but phrase it as a question.

"Well if you change your mind, I'm the Mr. Miyagi of dating around here. And I know the history of pretty much everyone, good and bad," she boasted with a cheerful smile.

Bella choked back an unexpected burst of laughter at the imagery. Instead of looking affronted, Jessica grinned back at her.

"Thanks," Bella started when she could control her mirth, "but I don't want to date anyone."

"Aww, okay. I was just thinking that maybe you would partner with me for this class, and in exchange I could help you with what I'm good at."

"Oh," Bella said, touched. "How about we do each other the favor of being partners. And you are really good at a lot of things," she had to comment, not wanting any girl to be reduced to being defined by who she dated.

"I suppose," Jessica said pursing her lips. "But I really think you are getting the short end of the stick here, Bella. I'm awful at math, I don't want to slow you down."

"You won't," she said firmly, irritation at the other girl's low self-esteem filling her with the resolve to help. "You are smart, and we will figure the math out together."

"I warned you," but Jessica seemed pleased.

Mr. Varner recaptured the class's attention for the remainder of the hour and went over the solutions—all of which they got correct. Jessica silently cheered and high-fived Bella after class.

Well, at the very least she had one tolerable class partner.

They had Spanish together as well, and then Jessica lead her over to a large lunch table, where Bella was subjected to almost an hour of conversation she did not want to be a part of. Mike and Eric, initially, competed for her attention. But after a few rude comments, and her obvious indifference to them, they mostly ignored her. Just the way she wanted it. And, to her surprise, Jessica picked up on her dislike of male attention and intervened if needed.

Bella appreciated the gesture.

After lunch was Biology.

That class passed the entire week without the presence of her hated bio partner from the first day. She wasn't conceited enough to believe that it was her fault he decided not to show up to class for the entire week, but the thought crossed her mind. She firmly shoved it away, and thought no more of him. The science lessons were easy, Mr. Banner not demanding, and she was able to continue her extracurricular work undetected.

Gym…yeah. It happened. Luckily, her arm got her excused from most of the activities.

Avoided anyone waiting around her locker to chat after school.

Wave to Jessica.

Go home.

Have Charlie heat up a frozen dinner, or buy takeout from the diner in town. He had no way of knowing that Bella used to do all the majority of cooking and cleaning at Renée's, and absolutely refused to fall back into that. She faked ineptness at cooking, even though the impulse to micromanage the, quite frankly, embarrassing food situation almost overcame several times throughout the week.

She conceded inwardly at the end of the week when she couldn't stomach another frozen pizza or diner burgers, and made a grocery list so they wouldn't subsist off poor dietary choices.

Her nights were filled with her coding project, and desperately counting down the days until her stupid cast came off and she could do the other activities she was itching for.

Go to sleep, repeat.


End file.
